Into The Fire
by Alterius
Summary: Prophecies say that when the first thirteen dragons die, the fourteenth terrorizes the countryside, seeking to revive its dead brethren. It creates disciples, goads them into hunting it with the promise that what was stolen from them will be returned. "You lost your heart to me last time, what did you plan on losing this time?"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** What happens when you stop role playing and get back into writing? That's right, you focus on new fanfiction instead of old. ... I'm just kidding; I plan on going back to my older ones. I'm just putting _some of them_ off for now because they're two years old and I'm cringing thinking about going back to them without at least _partially_ rewriting them. So! I hope you guys enjoy this prologue.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own DGM or anything that inspired Into The Fire.

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Lavi had grown up around tales of dragons that went well beyond the bedtime story that children were told to keep them from misbehaving. He wasn't _oblivious_ , even at an age where he still feared what lurked in the darkness. More than simple fiction, however, what was told in these parts was a recurring _prophecy_ that had given Lavi _horrid_ nightmares during his youth.

But his fear was _microscopic_ when compared to his _surplus_ of curiosity. Even before his parents' death, dragons interested him more than children's games or more "lucrative" fields of study. He'd determined early into his life that studying the beasts was his life's purpose, but it wasn't until he lived among the dirt and the filth that he met the man who would set him on the right path.

He was a draconologist: A historian that collected and _protected_ what little they knew about dragons from being lost to time, compiling and passing the knowledge on to apprentices like Lavi.

Generations of his predecessors had dedicated their lives to this cause and the information gathered throughout the proposed twelve cycled of this prophecy barely filled a single volume. Some had left behind pages of information, while others had left little more than rumors about where they'd been seen last.

Most people called them _stupid_ , thanks to the well-advertised occupational hazards.

But the aforementioned hazards had begun dwindling. With each passing day, their opportunities for discovery lessened along with the number of dragons. There was only one Great Dragon left alive and despite the power that Lavi was positive it had, the number of lesser dragons had dropped since the second to last Great Dragon had been slain.

That was why Lavi had ventured beyond the safety of town walls. _Urgency_ drove him to do what most would call downright stupid—and several people _had_ called him that. It was his damnable curiosity that led him to the alleged home of the beast he sought.

Rumors circulated in the nearby villages that disciples of the Holy Order often lurked at the border of this canyon, waiting for fresh victims of the dragon to stumble from its home and be welcomed into theirs. Given what he knew of the Holy Order and what made their disciples who they were, the idea of calling that castle a _home_ was enough to send a chill crawling up his spine.

But arriving here, Lavi knew without a sliver of a doubt from the intimidating atmosphere that it would've been wiser to seek out a disciple of the Holy Order and request their guidance—their _protection_ —through this canyon. Alone and unarmed, anyone else would've deemed this a foolish endeavor, but Lavi claimed to be anything _other_ than a fool.

As if to spite the air in the canyon that exuded a feeling of foreboding that made him want to curl into a ball and _roll_ out of this place, Lavi wasn't crippled by it, pressing onward for the sole purpose of finding the dragon that no one had managed to kill.

The threat of death loomed over him, but the threat of being made a disciple was even greater. How often, after all, had this thing killed its victims upon their _first_ meeting?

"Better alive and heartless than dead, right?" Lavi said aloud, as if spoken words might quell the overwhelming reminder that this was a graveyard to many disciples and the bones littering the ground served as his constant reminder of that.

Men, women and children alike had had their lives stolen away here—sometimes _twice_.

It was these obstacles and awful reminders that made traversing the canyon even harder than it otherwise would've been. The rumored resting place of the dragon lay well beyond twisting paths and steep drops that would deter anyone, save for a draconologist.

Ten minutes into navigating his way through this maze and he comes to the conclusion that an accidental death has a higher probability in this place than being burnt to a crisp. That chance only rose when he had a dated map in one hand and pen in the other, trying to sketch out the trail that had been long altered by elements both natural and _un_ natural.

The further in he walked, the more obvious it became that the rumors were true about the canyon's current resident. The charred stone wove an intricate enough story and the blackened bones supported it.

"Maybe this is how it greets guests," he muttered, pausing only to write a few details on the transition from bad to worse and mark it on his makeshift map.

"Wonder how it's gonna greet me."

If Lavi had a companion, he might've laughed then to dissolve the fear pooling in the pit of his stomach. Every step he took made him regret not bringing along a warrior with more experience. It wouldn't have taken a dragon slayer to help him put on a brave face, though. _Anyone_ would've made this easier.

So few draconologists there were in this world and here he was risking life and limb to find a dragon that was more apt to chew him up and spit him out than answer any questions he might have—if it would even understand him.

That was one of many questions that had remained unanswered. Then again, he didn't know many people—draconologists or otherwise—that would go find a dragon to ask how its day was.

All things considered, that might as well have been his plan, too. Maybe it would throw it off long enough for Lavi to make his escape.

No matter what, he had to make it out of this canyon; he had to make it back to the home he didn't have. After all, how could he learn something new and die before relaying fresh information to the other draconologists? It needed to be shared with his fellows.

"They'd wanna know this wasn't some fake rumor. And no way the old man is takin' any credit for my finds."

Even if it was just a signature scribbled at the bottom of a page, Lavi had no intention of dying before he could sign his new title for the first time.

And to get that title, he needed to escape here with something they didn't already know.

When he comes upon a tunnel that leads into the canyon's walls, he can't help the overwhelming curiosity that bids him to step inside what was clearly not created by nature. The walls, ceiling and even the floor is charred black, as if a dragon's fire had been strong enough— _hot_ enough—to melt through earth and stone.

Though the tunnel's architecture provides a haunting aura that he can't shake off with ease, more concerning is what he sees when he turns the next corner. Lurking in the shadows of what appears to be a dead end is a _person_.

Someone no older than himself stands there, still and silent, little more than their silhouette visible to him. Apart from the few wisps of light hair he can make out, their features and even their gender is a mystery to him.

"Uh, hey," Lavi says, watching as the person tilts their head towards him. It's the only indication that they're acknowledging him at all, much less that he's speaking. Though he can barely see the shift in the silhouette's movement, it makes clearer a strange... _protrusion_ on their head. Was this person okay?

"Should ya really be here? This is supposed to be home to a dragon, ya know."

"You should be worrying about yourself," they say with a pleasant lilt in a melodic voice, devoid of any fear. It was a stark contrast compared to the quiver in Lavi's own voice.

How calm they were unnerved him more than the atmosphere.

"Are you a disciple of the Holy Order?"

It's the only solution he can think of and his heart jumps into his throat when they _laugh_ at it. It's long and loud, drawn out like they don't feel the looming threat of a dragon crashing down on their heads and devouring them.

"A _disciple_?"

They repeat Lavi's words with a note of incredulity that has Lavi's brows furrowing. This person, he's already decided, is an enigma. How can they punctuate words with laughter when standing in the lair of a dragon?

Lavi doesn't know whether to say they're _brave_ or _**stupid**_ , but either way, they put every draconologist he's met to shame—and he'd met plenty of arrogant apprentices that wound up _absent_ at the following year's gathering.

"I'm the opposite of one of your precious _disciples_ ," they say, amusement still evident in their tone, though it's _dripping_ with bitterness that Lavi can't hope to understand. Their _complacency_ proved more terrifying than the dragon ever had been. Something about this stranger has his guts twisting into knots and the overwhelming sense of dread settling over him made him wish he'd never made the effort to warn them out of harm's way.

A single green eye squinted against the darkness, trying to see past the shadows that obscured his vision to find even a single detail about this person that might hint to him who they are. But it was impossible to discern any details, their form hidden away by the unlit torches mounted on the walls.

 _That_ was weird... What did a dragon need a torch for in such a small corridor?

The realization hits him just before he hears their sharp intake of air and the exhale that coincides with the corridor filling with smoke. Finally, it dawned on him who this person was, why they were here, what their _purpose_ was. He opened his mouth to speak their name—

"E—"

He's _thrown_ backwards before he can finish, the word is pushed from his lungs, along with every breath he had left. Where he collides with the wall, the stone chips and breaks, his body already aching from the impact. With no oxygen left to inhale, jumping up and doing what he should have to begin with verges on impossible.

And what prevents him from even making an attempt was the feeling of something sharp touching his chest. Through his shirt, he can feel the cold sting of a long claw too large to belong to the hand of any human.

He cracks open a green eye and through the smoke that causes it to sting, he can make out _scales_ and a set of eyes the color of molten gold.

What stood before him was little more than a death sentence. The single claw sinks into his flesh, tearing through his skin that was paper thin compared to its tough scales. He opens his mouth to scream against the pain, but the smoke only smothers him. He watches through tear-blurred vision with horror as the claw jerks back, taking a part of him with it.

He can _feel_ his heart pounding in their hand as the smoke begins to clear, revealing a familiar silhouette that morphs, lips becoming disfigured and forming a _maw_ that snaps shut around his heart.

And as his vision fades to black, lungs finally failing him, he croaks out the name that he had been kept from saying a mere moment ago.

"Exitium."

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 **A/N:** I hope you guys enjoyed that and will stick around to figure out more about our dragon in the next chapter! Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** At long last, I return with the next chapter of this fanfiction. This is in part to celebrate WIP week on Tumblr, but also because my beta reader and boyfriend—now fiance—is amazing; his penname is PapaLavi and if you didn't know, this story is being written for him, so I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and that you're excited for who we're going to be meeting in the next one!

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"Kanda, we have to do _something_!"

"No, we don— Gah!"

The unholy scream that follows would've woken the dead and risen them from the grave if they were close enough to any—but unfortunately, the only one near enough was Lavi and if the noise wasn't enough to wake him, the painful ringing in his ears would've been.

Scrunched up eyes peek open at the two voices, the sight of one blocked out by the eyepatch that remained over his eye. The first face he sees is a young woman no older than himself with long, black tresses that spills over her shoulder when their eyes meet and she leans down to greet him.

"Hey there," she says so soft that he barely hears her over the pained groans of her companion that isn't visible from where he lay. Amethyst-colored eyes glimmered in the afternoon sunlight as a pained smile spread across her face, though he didn't understand what was causing her so much grief.

Lavi's memory is caught in a foggy haze and the knowledge of how he'd gotten here—or where "here" was—was far out of his reach. His vision was blurry from his long nap, though he didn't remember laying _down_ for one. Hadn't he been doing something...?

He opens his mouth to speak and cough escapes him instead, lungs straining like he'd been swallowing fist fulls of smoke mere moments before this— _oh_.

Memories of the canyon and what— _who_ —he found in it come rushing back to him at a dizzying pace. Were he standing, he'd sure the biting pain from his worsening headache would've had him on the ground.

Concerned eyes stare down at him as her companion finally returns to join her, but Lavi's attention has fallen away from the two and even the man's features go unrecorded and the distance he keeps despite being in sight goes unnoticed.

Starting to sit up, she jumps to steady his shaky movements, but he is so fixated on the feeling in his chest that he misses the words that bid him to remain still.

He _knows_ his heart is beating out of rhythm like a song that's lost its tempo, but he can't feel it _pounding_ against his chest like it's about to burst from it. Lavi reaches up, touches the torn cloth of his shirt and the second layer of fabric that should've been beneath it.

"You need to rest after what you went through," she says, though her words verge on inaudible as quiet as they are and as far away Lavi's mind is.

"No, I- I can't, I—"

His hand lays over the hole in his shirt, both covering the unbound cleavage and feeling the fresh scar tissue where smooth skin had previously been. Her hands weigh heavy on his shoulders; his body feels like lead as he struggles to move.

It's her companion that finally shatters the nightmare he's been having and makes it a reality.

"Your heart was stolen."

All he hears are the harsh words; he doesn't process what the young lady in front of him says afterwards. He was a draconologist. He'd been told for as long as he could remember that he had no need for a heart, but that was _figurative_. Being without the blood-pumping organ meant one thing: He was no draconologist now.

He was a slayer, doomed to fight dragons until he died or until his heart was returned to him—or that's what the legends said, anyways.

Lavi could steal feel his heart beating, but it was far behind him, taunting him as if it wanted him to follow the—as if it _wanted_ to be found.

"What— What happened to me?" he asks, trying to make sense sense of memories wrapped in black smoke. He remembered the scaled claws that had descended on him and pierced his chest, pulled his heart from its cage... In his mind, it looked as much like a fever dream as it _felt_ like one.

Growing up, he'd heard tales of the fourteenth dragon's heart stealing ways, but an unfathomable nightmare had just become his reality.

"The same thing that happens to all of us."

Her smile falters and weakens as she speaks and Lavi's visible eye widens as he finally recognizes the clothes they wore. Garbed in coats of the purest white and hemmed with a vibrant gold, it dawns on him that these are the same people that he would now be expected to fight alongside.

"We all wake up with foggy memories, a scar on our chest and a heart that beats in the stomach of a dragon," she says, though she has no further need to explain. Lavi understands now that he's regaining his bearing, remembering the _risk_ he took when he set foot into the dragon's home.

More than being turned into a disciple, however, he almost expected to be eaten in his entirety as a mid-morning snack for a monster.

Stories had told him that only those worthy and brave enough to face the dragon would have their hearts ripped from their chests by it. Many draconologists had been killed in their pursuit of the dragon before him, so why had it chosen _him_ as worthy?

He didn't want this.

"What's your name?"

The question takes him by surprise. So lost in his thoughts he had been, he doesn't realize for another second that this is the second time she's asked him that.

"L-Lavi," he says, struggling with unfamiliar stutters. This wasn't a problem that had ever happened before, but panic was threatening to suffocate him. "My name is Lavi."

"Well, Lavi, my name is Lenalee Lee."

As she speaks, she draws back and makes a motion with her hand. He hears a sound like a horse neighing overhead before a gust of wind musses his hair, eyes scrunching up briefly as he raises a hand to block out the fierce wind. With eyes shut tight, he can only _hear_ the beating of wings as someone significantly smaller than a dragon lands behind Lenalee.

A wave of terror washes over him, his eyes snapping open to see not a monster, but a—

"A pegasus?" Lavi asks, not able to believe what he's saying. Lenalee greets the black-winged creature as she procurs something from a storage pack strapped to its side, out of the way of its large wingspan.

When she turns back around, he sees a knitted, tan shawl in her hands and he wonders if that was a product she herself had created before she returned and wrapped it around his shoulders, hiding what Lavi didn't want the rest of the world to see. He barely has time to mutter his gratitude before she's helping him to his feet.

"You should come with me. There are some people that you need to meet."

Though he knows he'll never be able to fight a dragon in the same way she or her unnamed companion might, Lavi follows her lead, too exhausted to refuse.

* * *

Exhaustion had set into his bones long before she loaded him onto her steed— _Koku_ , he learned his name was—like he was little more than cargo, though that was probably an accurate description of how all Disciples of the Holy Order were treated by the organization that housed them.

Knowing what he did, it was probably foolish to agree to accompany her to the castle that was their headquarters. His master had always planned for them to visit together so that he could navigate the Holy Order's parasitic politics that were designed to award the draconologists with as little as possible while their own organization raked in intellectual profit.

None of this was supposed to happen.

He was supposed to come here in one piece, with a beating heart in his chest and an old man screaming in his ear to play his assigned role as a "proper" draconologist—though he was more like the few others he'd met than the old man was.

And he was _definitely_ not supposed to arrive on the back of pegasus, arms wrapped a cute sky knight to keep himself from being blown off the creature's back.

Their descent into the courtyard is slowed by Koku's powerful wings and he finds himself unnerved by the way all heads to turn to them, gazes focused not on the returning Disciple, but _him_.

He can see those near enough to him arching their brows at the sight of him, even as Lenalee slides off the pegasus and helps him do the same. Such would warrant loud complaints, if not for how tired he was and how unnerving having so many eyes on him was.

Once his feet found the ground, the murmuring begins and he wraps the shawl tighter around his shoulders, hiding his form and the scar on his chest. _This_ was not a situation he was used to.

For him, normal was receiving the ire of dozens of strangers in the town square when he can't keep his mouth shut. The attention awarded to him now was _different_.

His time here could be counted in minutes on a single hand, but Lavi had already formed an opinion.

He didn't like _any_ of this.

Lavi's desired more than anything to leave this place and go back to the drawing board to find a _better_ way to approach the dragon and probe it for information. It left a painful ache in his chest that wasn't born from the loss of what _should_ have been there.

Through the dragon's magic alone, he still drew breath and there was no byproduct of the spell that sated his curiosity. With every step further into the Holy Order's headquarters and every sight within it, his desire to understand the dragon and its motives only grew.

After proceeding through a number of rooms that anyone with a lesser memory might call a maze, Lenalee opens a pair of large doors decorated by a stained glass painting of a dragon—the eighth, he noted—being slain.

Absently, he wondered if the Disciple pictured there still lived.

Through those double doors that depicted the first slaying of this generation of dragons was a man that sat behind a desk littered with papers that pegged him as something akin to the draconologist's chief of operations.

"Brother," Lenalee greets as she shuts the door tight behind them, leaving Lavi to wonder if that's for the sake of privacy or more to slow any potential attempt at escape. She strode up to stand next to where he sat before she gestured to him.

"This is Lavi. Kanda and I found—" She pauses briefly, glancing at him in time to see him cringe. "—him at the canyon's border."

A sigh of relief slips through Lavi's lips and he offers her a smile, which she returns with the same vibrancy.

Though she gives no more details, her chief—her _brother_ —nods, understanding. His lips form a smile, though the depths of its sadness are something that Lavi can't hope to figure out.

"So you've been made a disciple," he says, linking his fingers together to rest his chin on his hands. Lavi knows that his words are true. For all anyone cares, lavi is nothing more and nothing less than a disciple now and the missing organ in his chest proves as much to everyone but himself.

"I'm... I'm a draconologist," Lavi says with unfamiliar uncertainty. Never has he been forced to question who he was before. From a young age, he has been trained for one purpose and the idea of losing his very _reason_ for living...

Two sets of eyes widen, the two other people turning to look at each other before their gazes move back to him.

"You're a draconologist?"

He repeats it as if it's blasphemous and perhaps it is. Never before had a draconologist been recorded as a victim of the fourteenth dragon. Lavi was the first.

"Yes, I am," Lavi says, though the words aren't the entire truth. After all, he's a mere _apprentice_. He can't claim the title like the others could; he still has to _earn_ that. "I was so close to learning something out there. The dragon might've stolen my heart, but I can still _feel_ it and I can feel I was about to find out somethin' important!"

He had too many _questions_ to quietly give up, to try and _kill_ the creature he'd been ready to die to learn more about.

"Do you really have a choice? The only way to get your heart back is to fight and kill the dragon."

"I'm still breathin'!" Lavi says, his curiosity only growing thanks to the empty space in his chest. It was a void that seemed to be filled with questions that increased in number every minute that passed. His nerves were still clawing at him, but fear was overpowered by enthusiasm and a thirst for knowledge that couldn't be sated by slaying a dragon.

This time, Lenalee opens her mouth to protest and he knows by the look in her eyes the jist of what she's going to say before the words leave her lips . And he interrupts her before they can with a smile that didn't suit a man likely to walk out of this castle and meet his doom at the claws of a Great Dragon.

"I'll figure something out."

Lavi turns to leave, smile falling the minute he turns his back on them. Worry settles over him like a beast more terrifying than the one that had taken his heart. More than ever before, he was certain that his passion would end in his death sooner than he or his master had been prepared for.

"Wait," Lenalee starts and Lavi holds his hands up before she can start. He won't be convinced; he's already convinced _himself_ that this is the right path. That simply _letting go_ isn't his style.

"Sorry, Lena, but unless yer gonna offer ta help me..."

"I can't help you," she says and Lavi hand drops back down to his side. He'd expected as much. She seemed kind, but she was a disciple. her ability to work outside the confines of what the Holy Order decided was appropriate for her had a _very_ limited scope and pushing her past that could put her in grave danger. "But I think I know someone who can."

"Ya know somebody crazy enough to hunt down a dragon besides the other disciples, while _not_ killing it?"

He turns back to the duo in question, sees the smiles on their faces. Looks like "crazy" might be a perfect word for whoever they have in mind.

"Have you ever heard of the Noah family?"

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 **A/N:** I hope you guys enjoyed that! Thank you to everyone that's followed, favorited and/or reviewed so far! You're all lovely and I hope you have a wonderful day!


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